| The Singing Bone By Kuzibah |
| Author�s Note: Happy Birthday to Giles Girl (GG). In addition to being a Birthday story, this is the second part of my Faerie Tales series. It fallows the source material a little more closely than my first story (�Rapunzel�), but then again, the story is a bit more obscure. Disclaimer: GG is hers. The plot is the Brothers Grimm. The characters and settings belong to Joss, et al. I�m just here to duct tape it all together. Feedback: As they say in Sunnydale, duh. Archive: Please email me first. ******************* Rupert Giles watched with growing trepidation as the Slayer, her sister, her friends, their significant others, and Spike (for some reason) unpacked the boxes he had kept in storage since the library explosion nearly two years before. Books, files, scrolls, as well as hundreds of items most easily described as �miscellaneous� were shelved and filed in the back room he had specifically set aside for this purpose. Having said �be careful with that� upwards of a hundred times in a mere two and a half hours, he was seriously considering leaving the whole operation in the hands of the fates and going home to some tea and a cold compress. �Why don�t we all take a break,� he announced, wincing as four boxes were simultaneously dropped on the floor. �Sounds good,� Xander said. �Who wants to join my in a donut run?� �I�ll go,� Tara said. �All this dust is making my eyes water.� The rest sat down on boxes or the floor, except for Spike, who lit up a cigarette, and Dawn, who continued to rummage through boxes. Giles considered telling both of them not to, but he knew how to pick his battles. Sighing, he dropped into a chair. �It�s great to see some of these old books again,� Willow said. �Like seeing an old friend.� �Yeah,� Buffy said. �That Encyclopedia Infernale would have come in handy.� �And all these artifacts,� Willow went on. �Now that I know what a lot of them are actually used for.� �Willow,� Giles began, �I�d really you rather�� �Pay for your supplies,� Anya finished. �No, it�s not that,� Giles said. �But before�� �Hey, what�s this?� Dawn interrupted. All turned to her. She was holding a flute-like instrument made of some kind of white material and etched with tiny symbols. �That?� Spike said, taking hold of one end while Dawn kept a steadfast grip on the other. �That�s a human arm bone.� �Eww,� Dawn exclaimed, nearly throwing the item at the vampire. Spike brought the flute to his face and sniffed. �Young. Female,� he said. �Type A negative blood if I�m not mistaken.� �You are so making that up,� Buffy said. �No,� Giles said, rising and taking the flute from the vampire�s hand. �He�s absolutely right. Well, I can�t say about the blood type, but the rest is correct.� Spike shot a knowing smirk in the Slayer�s direction, but Buffy was staring at her watcher. �Okay, first of all, let me re-iterate that �eww,�� she said, �and second of all, what are you doing with it?� Giles sat back down, turning the flue in his fingers. �It�s� it�s a strange story, actually�� ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ Rupert Giles and his friend Ethan Rayne stood on the footbridge that spanned the river not far from their flat. Rupert had a bottle of vodka in his pocket, and the two young men had emptied a good two-thirds in the course of the afternoon. Ethan�s pocket was full of smooth pebbles he�d collected on the path there, and he was now tossing them, one by one, into the water and watching the sand rise up when they hit bottom. �I think it�s time to move forward,� Ethan slurred. �Necromancy is the next logical step.� Rupert yawned. It had been entertaining, at first, to be the object of his younger friend�s enthusiasm when Ethan learned of the former�s training in the supernatural, but now it had become something of an obsession, and was beginning to get tiresome. �Can�t we just go out to the clubs for once,� Rupert complained. �All this study and experimentation. You�re worse than my parents.� Ethan pitched another stone. �Come on,� he said. �When we�re the most powerful wizards Britain�s seen since the days of Merlin, you�ll thank me.� Rupert took another draw from the vodka bottle. �Yeah, wizards,� he said. �You need to understand, Ethan, it takes a lot of time and discipline to do what you�re suggesting. And you don�t even seem to have a clear purpose.� �Well, it�s fun, isn�t it?� Ethan said. �Getting people to do what you want. All the confusion and chaos.� �You talk about it like it�s just vandalism on a grand scale�� Rupert trailed off, aware he was being ignored. Ethan spun another pebble off his fingers into the water. �Hey, look at that,� he said. Rupert turned and peered into the river. �What?� �That flash of white, just under the surface, there,� Ethan said, pointing. �I don�t see�� But Ethan ran over the footbridge and down to the water�s edge. �Come back,� Rupert called to him. �It�s probably nothing.� �I�m telling you I saw something,� Ethan insisted, peeling off his socks and shoes. He waded into the riverbed, moving slowly so as not to stir up too much sediment. Rupert watched him, shaking his head. Ethan carefully bent down, reaching into the water, then lifted his prize into the air. �I told you, Rupert,� he crowed. The older man tried to see what Ethan was holding, but the sun glare on the river made it impossible. �Bring it up here,� he called. Ethan waded back, stopping only to retrieve his footwear, than re-joined Rupert on the bridge. �It�s a bone of some kind,� the younger man said excitedly. �The river�s scrubbed it clean.� Rupert squinted at the bone. It was about a foot long, perfectly hollow, white and smooth and gently curving. �I�m going it use it to make a summoning pipe,� Ethan said. �The one we saw in that book. I think it�s about the right size.� �I don�t know,� Rupert said. �That looks like it could be human. Perhaps we should alert the authorities.� �Don�t be ridiculous,� Ethan scoffed, and he held the bone up to sight along its length. �It�s probably been down there for years.� The younger man tipped the bone up vertically and, pursing his lips, blew lightly across the end. It answered with a soft hooting sound. Ethan shot Rupert a smug look. He tipped it to his lips again and, by changing the shape of his mouth as he blew, produced a low, mournful whistle. Help me the bone sang. Rupert nearly choked on his mouthful of vodka. �How the hell did you do that,� he said. Ethan looked up, his expression innocent. �Do what?� �Make it talk,� Rupert said. �I didn�t hear anything.� �Blow on it again.� Dutifully, Ethan lifted the makeshift whistle and blew across it. Help me, help me, the bone sang. �You�re telling me you didn�t hear that,� Rupert demanded. �You�re drunk,� Ethan told him. �Or maybe sunstroke. Let�s go.� They returned to the flat, where Rupert fell into bed and slept until dusk. When he awoke, he found Ethan at the kitchen table putting the finishing touches on a simple flute he�d carved from the bone, etching symbols from one of Rupert�s books and rubbing shoe polish into the grooves to make them stand out. �Oh, you�re awake,� Ethan noted. �Listen to this.� He raised the flute to his lips and arrayed his fingers on the holes. He played a quick scales, followed by a jaunty reel, but Rupert barely heard them. Instead he heard a woman�s voice issue from the bone. I was drowned, drowned for love, it sang. She brought me to the bridge, she pushed me in the water. I was drowned, drowned for a man. �Are you all right?� Ethan asked. �You�ve gone pale as a ghost.� �Didn�t you hear that voice,� Rupert said. He pulled the flute out of his friend�s hands and examined it closely. �A woman�s voice,� he insisted. �Singing, saying she was drowned for love.� �Well, I haven�t been able to get it to summon anything,� Ethan said. �You want it, it�s yours. Have a good time.� Rupert lifted the flute in his hands, the way he had seen the younger man do, parallel to his mouth, the rounded side pressed against his lower lip. He blew softly. Nothing. Neither voice nor musical tones issued from the bone. Ethan took it back. �You�re not doing it right,� he said. �You blow across it, not into it. Watch.� He played another quick series of notes, followed by the first stanza of �The Old Washerwoman,� but Rupert only heard the bone repeat its earlier song. Encouraged by his friend�s reaction, Ethan began a lively chorus of �Barrett�s Privateers.� And a face materialized at his shoulder. With a start, Rupert gasped and pointed to the apparition. Ethan stopped playing mid-note, and the face vanished at once. Words momentarily failed Rupert as he pounded the table with one fist and pointed emphatically at the empty air behind Ethan with his other hand. �Face, face,� he finally blurted out. Ethan was excited, now. �Was she here? Did you see her?� �She was right behind you,� Rupert said. �Bring her back!� Ethan started playing again. �Don�t stop,� Rupert said. �No matter what I say, keep playing. I�m going to see if I can talk to her.� After a moment the ghost re-appeared. She regarded Rupert with sad eyes even as she sang using the flute�s voice. My sister, my dear sister, she drowned me for a man. She wanted him but he loved me. Day of sorrow. I was drowned. �Who are you?� Rupert asked. �When were you drowned?� Oh, sorrow. My bones lie in a watery grave. I never shall rest until justice is done. �How can we help you? Please, tell me,� Rupert said. Play for my father. My father. My father who lives in the Manor house. Understanding finally dawned on Rupert. �Is your father the Earl?� Go play for my father. Go play for my sister. They shall hear me. My bones will lie easy. The spirit was nearly full-bodied now, and she stepped closer to the man questioning her. Hear me. Help me. She reached out with a ghostly hand to touch Rupert�s chest, just above the heart, and the young man gasped at the sudden cold that jerked through him. He grabbed Ethan�s shoulder and pulled him out the door. ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ �This is insane,� Ethan whined as he and Rupert stood outside the gate of the Earl�s estate. �We have to try,� Rupert insisted. �If you could have seen her face� She trusts me, Ethan.� A servant approached the gate, looking the two men up and down. �What o you want?� he snapped. �We need to see the Earl,� Rupert told him. �It�s very important.� �He�s not here,� the servant informed them. �He and her ladyship have gone to supper at the club. Can I take a message�� But Rupert was already gone, dragging Ethan along behind. �Come on,� he said, �we�ll catch up with them there. ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ �You don�t understand,� Rupert told the club�s host. �This is a matter of utmost importance.� �I�m sorry, sir, we are members only,� the host said calmly. �I can take a message to his table�� But Ethan took the opportunity, while his friend had the host�s attention, to slip into the dining room. And since it was not immediately obvious, he announced in a loud voice, �which of you buggers is the Earl?� The host dashed into the dining room, Rupert right at his heels. An older gentleman in the corner raised his hand. �I am he,� he said. The host grabbed Ethan by the collar and gave him a sharp yank towards the door. �I�m sorry, my lord. I�ll have these two hooligans�� Rupert pushed his way through to the Earl�s table. �Sir,� he pleaded. �It is absolutely vital that we speak with you.� The Earl addressed the host, who was unsuccessfully attempting to restrain the younger of the pair. �Langely, surely we can allow these gentlemen a moment of our time.� The host released Ethan, who joined Rupert at the Earl�s table. �I�m very sorry to disturb you,� Rupert began, �but it�s about your daughter�� �My daughter is right here,� the Earl said, gesturing to the young woman across from him. Rupert reddened slightly but pushed on. �I mean your other daughter.� The Earl drew himself up straight in his chair. �Young man,� he said, �my daughter Robyn ran away from home four years ago, without a word�� �No, sir,� Rupert interrupted. �I have reason to believe�� But Ethan raised the flute to his lips and began to play �Londonderry Air.� Rupert saw the sad-eyed spectre materialize at her father�s elbow. Father, oh father, she sang. There sits my sister Anne. She drowned me, she drowned me for love. The Earl�s face was white as he stared at his daughter�s ghost. �You see her,� Rupert said. �We found one of her bones in the river�� I cannot rest easy in my grave, she sang, I was murdered, dear father. I cannot rest without justice. Rupert turned to the girl seated at the Earl�s table. Her eyes were bulging from their sockets and her mouth was a perfect O. �You did it, didn�t you?� Rupert said sharply. �You pushed her into the river.� The girl began to shake her head slowly. �No,� she said, her voice barely audible. �No one saw. No one knew. This is a trick�� But the Earl was staring at her, now, his pale blue eyes filled with tears. �Anne,� he said. �How could you?� ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ Rupert and Ethan watched from the bridge as Scotland Yard�s investigative team sifted through the silt and mud dredged out of the river, extracting dozens of water-bleached bones. �I suppose she�ll get a proper burial now,� Rupert said. �Suppose we ought to give back the flute,� Ethan said. Rupert gave in a moment�s thought before answering. �Well, we haven�t seen or heard her since we told her father,� Rupert said, �and you�ve played it several times. I guess she�s at rest, now.� �Haven�t seen or heard anything else,� Ethan said petulantly. �What�s the use of a summoning pipe if it only summons one bloody ghost. Who�s gone now.� Rupert sighed. �Well if you don�t want it, give it to me.� �Fine,� Ethan said. �Good riddance.� ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~ Rupert Giles brought the flute to his lips. �I eventually learned to play,� he told those around him, before beginning a simple rendition of �She Moved Through the Fair.� �That was so sad,� Dawn said when he�d finished. �What happened to Anne?� Giles shook his head. �Her father had her committed to an asylum. After her husband left her for what she�d done, I suppose it was best.� Xander and Tara entered the room carrying sacks of donuts and coffee. �We�re back,� the boy announced. �Gather round the old chuck-wagon.� As his charges dug in, Rupert quietly withdrew to his office and placed the bone flute in a desk drawer. �I�m sorry I neglected you,� he said softly. �I promise it won�t happen again.� He closed the drawer and stepped out of the office. In the darkness behind him a voice whispered I know. 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